


The Katabasis of Mrs. Pollifax

by Sheliak



Category: Mrs. Pollifax - Dorothy Gilman
Genre: Gen, Katabasis, Rescue, Temporary Character Death, Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheliak/pseuds/Sheliak
Summary: In which Mrs. Pollifax descends to the Underworld to rescue a friend.
Relationships: Carstairs & Emily Pollifax, John Farrell & Emily Pollifax
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2019





	The Katabasis of Mrs. Pollifax

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).

There was only one agent for this one. 

Carstairs wished that wasn’t the case. He had never liked the idea of sending this particular agent into danger. But somehow or other, danger always seemed to find her—and she’d always come out just fine in the end. 

Still, this time he was sending her into the lion’s den, knowingly. 

She hadn’t agreed yet—hadn’t even heard the mission—but he knew that she would. Damnit. And damn him for picking her, knowing that. 

Looking at her in his office, he wanted to turn back. But she’d never failed him before, and she wouldn’t thank him for keeping her out of this. 

“It’s Farrell.” 

And that was that. 

Emily Pollifax of New Brunswick, New Jersey had never turned down a mission for being risky. And she would never turn down a mission to help Farrell. 

Even if it meant going to the Underworld to bring him back.

* * *

This really was an interesting mission. 

In some ways, it was rather like her others had been: a new country of sorts, strange and wonderful, full of people she hadn’t met (and some she had). And she was apparently a source of some vexation to a local authority, which wasn’t new either. 

In other ways, it was nothing like her other missions at all. There were things that refused to stay in her living memory, and she knew that once she left, more would join them. 

(_Such_ a pity. Even if she couldn’t tell anyone—well, she never could tell anyone—she would have liked to remember.) 

She hadn’t seen her husband here; she’d wondered about that, and it had been both a worry and a hope. But perhaps that was just one of the things she couldn’t quite remember.

* * *

“Duchess, I’d say that you’d be the death of me, but…” Farrell shook his head. 

“But that’s why I’ve come,” she said, very reasonably. “Carstairs sent me to get you out. But we do have to be careful. I’m afraid the Judge of the Dead is already rather annoyed with me,” she said. “Apparently I’m not where I should be, and…” She trailed off. The details were slipping away from her. 

“But I am,” Farrell said, gently. 

“Oh, but I have a plan!” 

“Let’s hear it.”

* * *

“Get out,” said the Judge of the Dead. “Get out and don’t come back. Take him with you. Out!” 

Mrs. Pollifax was intensely, surreally reminded of Nevena of Balkantourist, and how she had, at her wit’s end with frustration at Mrs. Pollifax’s behavior, saved her life—entirely by accident. Of course, that had been an accident for her too, and this wasn’t. 

Between that memory and her mingled relief and exhaustion, it took her some effort not to laugh. But instead she bowed (it seemed like one _should_ bow to a person like that, especially under the circumstances), took Farrell’s hand (she would _not_ be like Orpheus, turning to look back) and turned towards the light.

* * *

It was a long way back, and she needed that resolve. 

The world became very narrow. She lost all awareness of the tunnel: there was stone under her feet and stone under her left hand, and a dull light ahead, and that was all. Above her might have been more rock, or it might have been open sky; there might be barely room for her on the other side, or she might have been limping along a precipice. But her right hand was still clutching Farrell’s. She focused on that warmth, and thought: just another step. And that thought carried her through many more next steps. Just another, and another, and another—

Her foot came down on grass, and she kept walking. Her hand came loose into air, and she still lurched forward. 

Farrell caught her before she could fall. 

“You really are something, Duchess.” And he was in front of her, as if he knew she was reluctant to look back. 

He looked terrible, tired and too thin, with blood staining his clothes. But there was no mortal wound on him; he wasn’t dying, and whatever had killed him had stayed down there, in the dark, and not followed him back to the living world. 

“Well,” Mrs. Pollifax said, “I think we should really tell Mr. Carstairs that we’re alive. He must be worried.” 

Farrell laughed. “I’ll just bet he is. Lead the way, Duchess.” 

And she did.

* * *

It was certainly one of her stranger debriefings. Her memory failed her at odd times, which Carstairs fortunately seemed to expect; Farrell was having the same trouble, now that he was alive again. 

Still. Some things she did remember. 

“I’m afraid that I’ve become, well, _persona non grata_ in certain circles.” Mrs. Pollifax was rather embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time she’d been forcibly removed from foreign soil, but being expelled from the Underworld was rather different than being expelled from Bulgaria. 

“It’s not as if we were counting on being able to send you back,” Carstairs said. “You got the job done, and you made it out.” He grinned at her in pure relief. “I don’t think anyone else could have.”

* * *

After she had gone, Bishop turned to Carstairs. “You don’t worry that…” His voice trailed off. 

Carstairs knew what he meant: Don’t you worry that she’ll be trapped above, forever? _Persona non grata_ in the Underworld…

But it was a question he’d asked himself over sleepless nights, and he had his answer. Carstairs shook his head. “I don’t think they could keep her out if she really wanted to go back.”

On the day that Mrs. Pollifax was done with the world of the living, there was no force on Earth or below it that could keep her out of the halls of the dead. That was half the reason Carstairs had wanted her for this mission.

And if she never was done with them… well, he’d be glad to have her, as long as she wanted, even if that was forever. His successors, too, if they were worth the job.


End file.
